


Random drabbles

by belana



Category: Korean Drama, Sungkyunkwan Scandal, 太王四神記 | Tae Wang Sa Shin Gi | The Legend (TV), 기황후 | Empress Ki (TV), 무사 백동수 | Warrior Baek Dong Soo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belana/pseuds/belana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random drabbles on different Korean historical doramas.</p><p>1) Sungkyunkwan Scandal: Gu Yong-Ha, Moon Jae-Shin, first meeting, G<br/>2) Warrior Baek Dong-soo: Baek Dong-soo & Yang Cho-Rip, post-series, G<br/>3) The Story of the First King's Four Gods: Dam-deok & Ho-gae, AU, G<br/>4) Empress Ki: Taltal / Ki Seung-Nyang, AU. This one's rated R<br/>5) The Story of the First King's Four Gods: Dam-deok, Sujini & Cheo-ro, G<br/>6) Warrior Baek Dong-soo: Ji, Chun, Kim Kwang-daek, canon poliamory, G</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sungkyunkwan Scandal: Gu Yong-Ha, Moon Jae-Shin, first meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Первая встреча](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/146842) by Серафита. 
  * A translation of [Драббл про то, как у Чхо Липа всё было хорошо](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/147571) by Серафита. 
  * A translation of [АУ по "Легенде"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/148786) by Серафита. 
  * A translation of [Empress Ki AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/155255) by Серафита. 
  * A translation of [Гордость и предубеждение](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/161036) by Grissel. 
  * A translation of [От любви](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/211360) by Серафита. 



Jae-Shin doesn’t get a chance to get out of the Father’s estate very often, and he doesn’t want to lose time. The honorable house Moon looks after its own, and Father is very strict. Jae-Shin is very lucky to be the younger son…

A boy bumps into him, and both fall over. Jae-Shin doesn’t have time to understand what happens. His clothes is covered in dust, moreover he hit his knee on a stone, and his forehead – on someone else’s.

A stranger, who looked to be his own age, is sitting across from him rubbing a rapidly growing bruise.

“You... You!” Jae-Shin forgets all the appropriate words. “Jerk!”

A memory of the older brother lecturing servants comes to his mind.

The boy rises and quickly looks around. He grabs dumbstruck Jae-Shin’s hand and drags him into the bushes. Jae-Shin doesn’t understand how he manages to take cover so quickly – a moment before a big man enters the street. He looks like a servant from a prosperous house.

“Young master! Young master, where are you?”

Old Cheon, the steward of the Moon town estate, appears from the other end of the street only a second later. Jae-Shin hunches his shoulders involuntarily.

“I knew it,” the stranger whispers, when the danger passes, and he is able to stand up. “You ran away from the teacher too, didn’t you?”

Jae-Shin collects himself and stands up too. The boy winks with both eyes, makes faces and smiles. Somehow Jae-Shin realizes right away that he’s a boy, even though he’s as pretty as any agashi or gisaeng’s daughter. And he’s dressed strangely.

_But he’s only a commoner,_ Jae-Shin realizes suddenly. Maybe he’s from a rich family, a merchant’s or a money-lender’s son, but…

“You’re not a yangban,” Jae-Shin blurts without thinking. And he’s instantly angry at himself: W _hat? It’s the truth_.

Contrary to expectation, the boy doesn’t take offence.

“So what,” he shrugs and smiles even wider, in a second transforming from a gisaeng into a kumiho from books. “But I will be soon. Father said so.”

_How’s that possible?_ Jae-Shin wonders confused. _That’s nonsense_ …

“I’m sorry that I hit you,” the boy says. He puffs his cheeks thinking, searches in the grass and straightens with a quiet triumphant whoop, “Here!”

He’s holding a dragonfly with fluttering opalescent wings. Jae-Shin opens his mouth to refuse, but the dragonfly is pretty, and the boy is strange and funny. He accepts the present graciously.

“Well,” the kumiho boy says cheerfully, “see you later? If it won’t rain tomorrow we can go to the river.”

He plucks a huge burdock leaf and fans himself as if it were a real fan. Judging by the stiffness it will rain soon. Jae-Shin nods.

The boy smiles, “My name is Gu Yong-Ha.”


	2. Warrior Baek Dong-Soo: Baek Dong-Soo & Yang Cho-Rip, post-seties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to dampen the cheerfulness of the epilogue.

Yang Cho-Rip is doing fine: people at court bow to him more often, recognize his face and call him Master Hon. Father doesn’t show it, but Cho-Rip sees that he’s secretly proud of him, even more so since he hasn’t been expecting anything from the prodigal son of his for years. The King favours him, Mother talks about brides little by little: it’s already obvious that the junior aid to the Palace majordomo Hon will make a brilliant career, he’ll be on demand on the brides’ market…

Cho-Rip is also doing fine with his ex-tutors and mates… He almost thinks ‘ex-mates’, but he quickly chases that thought away. The made-up name, that was used in the training camp, is still more familiar to him than the one given to him at birth. He often visits Samo (the old man has been aging rapidly lately, it’s a good thing he’s married now), and he sees the three of his mates every day, they are inseparable from the King. Them and Dong-Soo. That is, the head of the guards Baek. There’s no man closer or more loyal to the King.

Sometimes it brings out the old, almost forgotten and almost suppressed annoyance: what have this war dog, who can only wave his sword around, done to earn such trust? Can he give a wise advice, can he assess the qualities of men? Then the feeling passes. Dong-Soo really is a martial arts genius, he saved the King’s life in situations when Cho-Rip’s strength or intellect was of no use. Moreover, Dong-Soo has good memory and ability to learn, but Cho-Rip doesn’t like to remember that. It’s a good thing Dong-Soo and Yeo-Woon preferred to train in martial arts rather than in any other sciences.

Dong-Soo is unfailingly cordial and polite with Cho-Rip, he smiles at him as often as before. During the first months after Yeo-Woon’s death (it’s unpleasant to even remember that, Cho-Rip tried to do it as little as possible) he looked uneasily into Dong-Soo’s eyes almost against his will. Cho-Rip didn’t know what he was searching for, he even tried to have a heart-to-heart talk with him several times… Then he stopped, deciding that he did the right thing, and any explanation would sound like an excuse. All these conversations always ended with the words _It’s better this way_ in his head, anyway. And only guilty men make excuses.

Dong-Soo didn’t try to help him ease the tension. He stayed silent and gladly changed the topic. Finally Cho-Rip calmed down a little. What was he afraid of, anyway? That one day Dong-Soo would wait for him in a dark alley with the drawn sword? That was absurd. It was Yeo-Woon’s style, Dong-Soo would have never done anything like that.

A new, subtle shadow in Dong-Soo’s eyes doesn’t go away, though – not six months or a year later. Dong-Soo smiles, pours him more wine, shares a meal, keeps the conversation flowing, pats his shoulder, laughs, looks him in the eye and doesn’t forgive.


	3. The Story of the First King's Four Gods: Dam-deok & Ho-gae, AU

Basically he’s a loser.

Lord Ga-ryeo’s only son, nephew and grandson of kings, a handsome and talented man — he knew perfectly well what was said behind his back.

All of it is easily cancelled by the unlucky day of his birth. Like the good wine can turn sour, one coincidence can turn a blessing of Heaven into a sophisticated curse.

His mother’s fanatic faith and the star of Jyushin defined his destiny that night too. It caught him, tangled his fate like a thread in careless hands, entwined it with someone else’s, then threw it away like a thing not needed. Everything Ho-gae dared to wish for he received either from Dam-deok’s hands or didn’t get at all: prophesy, greatness, the dream, the woman.

They’ve seen each other last — when was it?.. Three years ago. _Three years, eight months, twelve days. Don’t you dare to lie to yourself that you don’t remember that_. It was back in Korang. And now there was this meeting, absurd in its randomness, neither of them expected it to happen… Or so Ho-gae wanted to believe. Because if Dam-deok was seeking him…

Ho-gae’d heard of course, that the young King of Goguryeo loved to scout, dressed in plain clothes and surrounded by minimum security. But… this close to the border? And Dam-deok had barely half a dozen men with him. The King could not be called careless, though.

“Long time no see,” Dam-deok smiles a little, the corners of his mouth twitching, and looks a little over Ho-gae’s shoulder. Is he avoiding his stare? It was a flattering thought, but it was better not to delude himself: Ho-gae was always the first to give in. Maybe because Dam-deok never tried to compete in the first place.

“Three years,” Ho-gae says.

“Eight month, twelve days.” Dam-deok shrugs, his smile grows wider and becomes more cheerful. He leans over the table and pours Ho-gae some wine. The guards are hovering at a respectful distance, but Ho-gae can still feel that the Demon of Kwanmi is annoyed, that the Tiger doesn’t like this at all. A small tavern, forgotten by the Heavens, is situated two hours’ ride away from the border and is not meant to host such high-ranking guests, and the guards can't do their job properly.

The wooden table was scraped clean, though, vegetables were fresh, cheap wine went straight to the head. Rumour has it the young King is no stranger to a bottle, loves to have fun, loves to dress simply and walk unrecognized though the capital; he loves to gamble and occasionally visit a brothel. Ho-gae remembers a different Dam-deok, a quiet sickly child, who never left the palace. It was an elaborate mask that stayed in place for years. It’s amazing how many people still think this man is open-hearted and straightforward.

Dam-deok is a very handsome now. It is strange to notice such things, but still…

Dam-deok is still smiling at him — after Korang, after everything. Dam-deok smiles, and the faces around him light up, backs straighten, eyes brighten. The people will gladly die for him, they believe in him more than in a thousand stars.

Dam-deok issues death warrants with the same smile and pleasant demeanour — and people love him even more for that.

He’s not a villain, otherwise Ho-gae would have felt a little better. He’s what wise men call _a virtuous ruler_ in their books.

It’s even worse.

He can kill, lie, play double, and it will be called _justice_ and _political foresight_. Even a poison taken from his hand will become a medicine. In Ho-gae’s hands gold rots, and iron turns to ashes…

This twenty-year-old conqueror and peacemaker was eleven when he poisoned his own aunt without any hesitation or regret. He fed her poison, then went to her son, told him everything and added, “Sorry, it sort of happened”. At sixteen he managed to bend the capital and rebelling lords into submission almost without any backing or allies. At seventeen he won back a dozen of Bakje forts, including Kwanmi.

Ho-gae looks at him and feels eleven again, the funeral rites for his mother just ended.

“I’m glad that you’re doing fine.”

This is not deceit or courtesy, Dam-deok is genuinely pleased. The same way he told Ho-gae’s father that he was leaving the capital in his care because there was no better man than Lord Yeon to take the responsibility. Why, oh why people still think Dam-deok is naïve? What kind of man he had to be to give such power to the man longing to dethrone him? Dam-deok merely put the good of Goguryeo before his own feelings and expected the same behavior from his entourage. He expected that the husband whose wife he killed, a father whose son he pushed away from the throne to do the same.

Because _he_ could do it.

At eleven Dam-deok reached an adult political decision and came to Ho-gae hoping to explain it to him — he came to a boy who just lost his mother. A boy of the same age.

“Yes,” Ho-gae says. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”


	4. Empress Ki: Taltal / Ki Seung-Nyang, AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: Shundi is Ta-Hwan’s posthumous name, Qi is the Chinese version of Ki, Öljei Khutuk is Seung-Nyang’s Mongol name, Toqto’a is Taltal’s Mongol name.  
> Key facts and dates are more than fictional. Ta-Hwan died not ‘some years later’, but 5-6 years after the main events of the series (the emphasis on the poisoning and its serious symptoms was deliberate). I did to history exactly what the scriptwriters did. In the dorama Taltal lived a dozen of years longer than he actually did, so I decided I could prolong the existence of the Yuan Empire accordingly. I flirted with other historical events for my convenience too.

“You shouldn’t do this, Your Majesty. I killed the Chancellor.”

Seung-Nyang wasn’t used to seeing Taltal in such state. He was always collected, his every word was deliberate. He consisted of a light armour, less often a court dress, and a simple silver pin in the hair.

Now this image was shattered into pieces. Taltal was falling apart, and Seung-Nyang thought that she’d crack too like a china vase.

“Don’t say that, Counselor.”

“I’m begging you, Your Majesty.”

Bayan’s body was carried out of the Palace already, servants even washed away the blood from the marble floor of the throne room. After a tiny pause Seung-Nyang rose her hand, white sleeve of her under dress, that she wore as a repenting convict, shivered in the wind, covering the Councilor’s face for a moment — from spies, eunuchs, servants, concubines, guards, from everyone of this bloodthirsty pack, from her own retinue.

Sometimes the only thing that a woman can do for her man is to hide his tears from the world.

 

**1357, 11th year of Ayushiridara’s (Biligtü Khan’s) reign, Liaoyang**

 

It was unthinkable to visit Daidu and not pay respects to the grand lady, but merchant Jian Da was still marveling at the situation in the capital.

“Is it true,” he asked carefully, “that the Dowager Empress Qi (let Buddha prolong her days) didn’t enter a monastery and chose not to manage the affairs of the Palace, but left it and settled in the Liaoyang province?”

“Yes, it’s all true, master,” Liu, his trusted servant, who was sent to gather information, nodded. “It’s not wise to talk about it, though.”

“It’s unthinkable,” Jian Da said contemplating something else.

“I agree,” the servant echoed.

It’s not entirely unheard of that a dowager empress preferred to marry again and lose privileges provided by the royal family. It happened a long time ago, though.

No one could say that Empress Qi didn’t mourn her husband enough. The young emperor  Ayushiridara loved his mother too much (and was too relieved when he got rid of her care) to object.

Jian Da received the invitation to the huge estate on the banks of Hwang Ho in the evening. The palanquin was waiting for him at the gates. Jian Da walked the path between bushes covered in pink and purple flowers, dropped to his knees and bowed ten times to the lady. He handed over the sealed message without looking up.

“Rise.”

She didn’t look like the Han beauties, who were as gentle as plum blossoms, or the Mongol women – as far as Jian Da could say, even though it wasn’t a simple merchant’s place to dwell on such a subject. The inner palace of the Celestial Empire’s ruler, however, was full of beautiful women, and this one had something more than the white face and bright eyes.

Once, when emperor Shundi was still alive, the Empress was attacked while the army marching off to crush the rebels waited for the royal couple’s parting words. Rumours differed about what happened later: some said assassins managed to injure the Empress, others claimed that they were cut down a few steps away from their target. One thing was clear: even though the Emperor begged his wife to take care and stop tempting the fate the Empress sent for the Chancellor and appeared before the army without missing a beat. She was impeccably dressed…

 

**1343, the 10th year of Toghon Temür’s (Ukhaghatu Khan’s) reign, Daidu**

 

“Do it.”

Taltal didn’t ask any more questions, didn’t try to argue. He extracted a thin blade — either from the hair-do or from the inside of the collar (How did he manage to bring it into the palace? What were the guards doing?), quickly and neatly cut the dress open on her back. The maid gasped, then darted to the small table in the corner to get a box with needles and threads after eunuch’s Deok-man’s stare and prod.

Any other man would have been tearing this dress off her. If Wang Yoo were alive he would have ripped the peach-colored silk. Toghon couldn’t have done that now, fear never made him stronger, only weaker… Taltal kept going, he was collected as always: he opened the wound, picked the dart with his fingers and pulled it out.

…However, any other man wouldn’t have followed her order and wouldn’t have allowed her to leave the room in such condition.

The pain blinded Seung-Nyang for a moment. The world went black and returned in pieces: she didn’t see anything, but she knew that the blood from the wound was black and unusually thick, its ferrous smell mixed with the reek of poison. The poison was very strong… They had a nerve, these assassins didn’t even try to make the death look natural or at least respectable. They wanted her dead, quickly and efficiently. Well, she had to admit this approach had its perks… Maybe she’s got too used to hidden subtlety that was associated with such deeds in the Palace. It was an unforgivable folly on her part.

Patterns on draperies and the mosaic floor started fading again.

Fingers touched her lips, they were icy even compared to her cold ones.

“This is black tar, Your Majesty.” His voice didn’t change. No one could ever guess what Taltal was thinking. She heard his voice change maybe three times during the last ten years. “Chew it slowly, but don’t swallow. Mongol riders use this remedy when they need to spend in the saddle three days in a row.”

The question why and how long the Chancellor of the Empire was carrying around this thing was left unasked. She needed to change the guards, that’s for sure. What else did this man bring into the Palace?..

Her mouth tasted bitter with a little aftertaste of blood. Taltal kept meddling with the wound on her back not stitching it. Her mouth must be as black as this ‘tar’ now, but Seung-Nyang could think straight. Now she saw Ayu’s black and round eyes (the boy was huddled up in the corner), Toghon’s pained expression, servants frozen in place. Her son’s face crumbled, but he didn’t dare to cry. Seung-Nyang barely remembered that she shushed the boy into silence while eunuchs were finishing off the assassins.

There was an army in front of the Palace, it waited for the signal to attack. Taltal stitched the hopelessly ruined dress together on her back, it needed only to stay in place.

 

 **1357, 11 th year** **of Ayushiridara’s (Biligtü Khan’s) reign, Liaoyang**

 

“You can stay in Liaoyang as long as you wish,” the lady nodded graciously indicating that the conversation was over. Jian Da backed away respectfully. At that moment a tall man dressed in black and purple and a boy in expensive clothes with gold embroidery stepped around the corner.

Jian Da saw long hair with several silver strands, an expensive hairpin, a calm regular face and bowed low again.

He’d heard about this man, but he’d never seen him. He was the Chancellor of Yuan during Ayushiridara’s minority and the second husband of Lady Qi. He was famous for his intellect and extensive knowledge on various topics, he was an excellent chirographist and a painter, a successful general and a talented courtier enjoying the kindness of the second Celestial Emperor… The list of his accomplishments seemed endless.

There were darker rumours too. It was said that the Empress and the Chancellor — not sickly Shundi — had ruled the kingdom, and that they still were ruling from the shadow behind the throne. That Taltal knew no fear, that Lady Qi was much like him in that respect. That was why they became friends: a woman without a heart and a man with ice in his veins.

Jian Da heard that the Empress and the Chancellor once led an army against the Red Turbans and were captured. The troops from the capital recovered the captives, but the Empress never showed fear…

 

**1345, the 12th year of Toghon Temür’s (Ukhaghatu Khan’s) reign, grasslands**

 

They dragged a barrel full of hot water into the tent. The rebels planned to behead the Empress and the Chancellor of Yuan tomorrow. A tired woman covered in dirt and an unshaven disheveled man, who looked more like a tramp, were not a part of that plan.

Taltal turned away before she asked. He winced taking off bloodied and dusty clothes. In different circumstances Seung-Nyang would have thrown propriety and etiquette to the wind and made him bathe first. But wounds and a possible pneumonia didn’t matter anymore: they both wouldn’t live long enough to see the sunset tomorrow. When Taltal didn’t say anything to this madman Zhu Yuanzhang it meant that he ran out of backup plans and tricks. Seung-Nyang’s supply ended a while ago.

Taltal was smarter than her, she always knew that. Her advantage was better intelligence, higher awareness and reaction speed.

Taltal poured water into a basin and washed his face.

Seung-Nyang soaked in the hot bath. She didn’t even remember when she last had a bath without a hundred rose petals floating in it, without a scent of jasmine or cherry, aromatic bath salts from Iran to soften the skin or she-ass’ milk to whiten it… Now it was just water, clear and tasteless.

Maids and eunuchs at the Palace had struggled long and hard with her scars and callouses, bow-string and whip-handle marks on her palms… It seemed important a long time ago.

Seung-Nyang realized that she almost fell asleep, shook herself, grabbed the edge of the barrel and looked around.

Taltal was sitting on the edge of the bed with elbows on his knees and head bowed low. He possessed neither Toghon’s almost maiden-like delicacy, nor Wang Yoo’s provocative male charisma. The Chancellor was simply and unabashedly handsome.

 _We’ll die tomorrow_ , Seung-Nyang thought. _They’ll behead us, salt our heads and send them to Daidu_ — _to scare the soldiers and Governor Owe who stays in the capital. Emperor is sick. He won’t live through such a blow. The heir is ten years old. Governor Owe is a competent man, but he won’t be able to hold the Empire together_ …

There were things that even Empress Ki couldn’t allow herself if there was still some hope left. Toghon’s love for her knew no bounds, but Seung-Nyang, a nameless tramp, a bond-maid who walked all the way from Goryeo to Yuan, a tea servant in the Palace, spent all her life breaking laws and pushing back the limitations.

She never discussed it with the Chancellor, but she was sure that Taltal was of the same opinion. They often thought about the same things, but rarely the same way. Taltal once confessed that she was the only person whose mind he couldn’t read. Their conversations usually started and ended with glances, while others needed several hundred words in the same circumstances.

It was inconceivable to the point of ridiculousness: the Chancellor went straight to the Empress’ chambers right after returning from the latest campaign, “Your Majesty, I came up with a new decree…”

“Oh yes, I’ve been writing it all night and half of the morning. Look, what do you think, Sabumnim?”

The post of secretary of state was considered to be unfortunate and troublesome, two or three people left it each year: no one could catch up with the Empress and the Chancellor.

They thought about the same things, but…

 _I’m not twenty to play this game again. I will not endure another Ma-ha. It’s a good thing we’re going to die tomorrow_.

Seung-Nyang didn’t remember how she reached the bed. Those few steps completely vanished from her memory. She could have ran that distance.

They collided like soldiers on a battlefield and ended up on the floor. Taltal rolled over in one fluid movement holding her close managing not to hit her with knees or elbows. There was nothing soft about him so the action unsettled her… Seung-Nyang’d never been naked with a man. Wang Yoo cherished and respected her too much, while the Celestial harem was full of restrictions and rules, people were killed for a deviation from etiquette and tortured for a mistake. Nakedness was considered crude and offensive. She was brought to Toghon in a underdress of fine white silk and brocade (she still remembered the way his fingers trembled when he first touched her). _Only animals and rabble mate without any idea of propriety_ , that was what eunuch Deok-man taught her.

Seung-Nyang remembered the scars (on the shoulders, on the arm, the lash and arrow wound marks that no ointment could hide). She found Taltal’s scars in a moment and forgot all her strange ideas.

Stupid words were harder to expel, they stuck in her throat. _So what?_ Seung-Nyang thought. She was a woman, she was entitled to do one stupid thing in these circumstances.

Taltal whispered, “Öljei…”

It took her a second to realize that he was calling her.

For all those days when against her will Seung-Nyang looked for one red-head, who resembled an itinerant actor with dyed hair, among bowed heads in the Palace…

Seung-Nyang tried to remember his other name, not the one that sounded familiar in Chinese or her native Goryean. There was another name, Mongol, icy, rounded and strange — like him. He kept talking repeating one word again and again. Seung-Nyang replied without thinking, then she ended on top towering over him, out of breath and triumphant.

She didn’t even realize that Taltal kept talking in his native tongue while she didn’t understand a word.

 

 **1357,** **11 th year** **of Ayushiridara’s (Biligtü Khan’s) reign, Liaoyang**

 

 “Have you finished, milady?” The voice was low and calm. Jian Da pressed his forehead more firmly into the ground.

“Yes.”

On the way out the merchant did look back discreetly. Those two were standing close looking at the playing child — shoulder to shoulder like warriors on a battlefield, not a loving couple enjoying the calm in a peaceful garden.

 

* * *

 

Seung-Nyang saw the guest from the capital out and suppressed a sigh.

Taltal was standing at her side and thinking about the same topic, but in a different way as usual. He looked at his son. Seung-Nyang smiled. A long time ago, when they returned to the Palace after the Red Turbans’ captivity, she kicked out all the maids from the kitchen and brewed a drink (daphne, mint, and honey to add sweetness). It was an old recipe that even Tanashiri used to give Emperor’s wives… Seung-Nyang couldn’t take that chance. She probably should have felt guilty in Toghon’s presence. Seung-Nyang didn’t consider her relationship with Wang Yoo to be an infidelity: she loved him, at that time she didn’t think about anyone else and wasn’t bound by word of honour.

She should have, but she didn’t. Afterwards she didn’t allow herself the weakness, buried that night in her memory close to the dark place where she kept her memory of Ma-ha and Wang Yoo. Toghon died in less than a year, then her attention was consumed by the regency. But not for eternity.

Her third son was born a redhead — already in Liaoyang. When Taltal retired he received the control over the province where he started his career with his uncle — as the Emperor’s reward. The former chancellor and the former empress… A while ago Seung-Nyang took great pains to make sure Ayushiridara who lost his father too early didn’t take Taltal for a parental figure. It was inconvenient and would have made things at court more difficult for the Chancellor. Ayu still considered him an example. It was not the easiest role model for the boy…

Ayu adored and spoilt his younger half-brother, brought him presents every time he visited, but seven years ago, when Yunle-tegus was born, the fifteen-year-old Emperor, who was left to his own devices for the first time and only started enjoying the art of love, had hard time getting used to the idea that his royal mother and the Chancellor Taltal in private did what he and his favourite concubine did. _Poor boy_ , Seung-Nyang thought amused. In his eyes Taltal and she were relics. He didn’t even realize how much pleasure a man and a woman aged a little over forty could give each other if they were healthy enough and loved each other enough…

Yulne caught a butterfly and was showing it to his father carefully holding his hands together so he didn’t crush the delicate wings. Taltal smiled one of his rare smiles, and Seung-Nyang’s heart almost stopped.

She remembered the letter the merchant handed over. She had to write a reply. It was no surprise that the former empress wrote to the senior eunuch of the Palace, wasn’t it? And to humble nuns, Toghon’s widows. And to his generals. And to some governors…

This fool, who was considered the most likely candidate for the post of counselor, was simply pathetic. What was Ayu thinking?

There was a time when Ayushiridara’s likeness with his father evoked adoration of the court in general and Dowager Empress Budashiri in particular, but later it became a nuisance. Seung-Nyang knew that she was unfair: it was no wonder that Ayu was relieved when she left the capital. Taltal and she were too big figures and were part of the previous reign. And her son, his father’s favourite, who grew up in safety and peace would have never became another Toghon. Seung-Nyang sometimes wondered, though, what would have happened if Ayu inherited not only the eye color from her.

Once Taltal told her about Bayan’s request which he honoured in the end. That one time when she saw him crying. Today Taltal also received a letter from the capital. Seung-Nyang wondered who could stop them if they became too power-hungry and crossed the line. There were none at court. Maybe they would destroy each other.

_But I don’t think I’ll be able to stab you with a sword, my love… I could drink a cup of poison with you. It won’t be such a bad ending_ _._

Ki Seung-Nyang, the Dowager Empress of Yuan, smiled and stepped toward her husband and son.


	5. The Story of the First King's Four Gods: Dam-deok, Sujini & Cheo-ro, G

**Pride and Prejudice**

 

"Why do you keep following me?"

They sit near a fence, drink wine from a bottle, passing it to each other. It takes some effort to realize that they are a boy and a girl. One looks like a wealthy citizen or a son of an army officer. He's better dressed, and there's something in his face indicating he's no beggar or tramp. The other one fits the description of a lowlife perfectly: she's scrawny, poorly dressed, the hair cropped short, and her smile is too sly. She's definitely a tomboy from the poor part of the town.

"Have you got no honour? Are you in love?" the boy asks.

She snorts.

"You think about yourself too much. All the girls in the capital are in love with Prince Ho-gae, me included. He's so handsome! His smile is like the sun! Everyone says he's the promised true king, the incarnation of the Heaven King."

"What do you need from me then?"

"You have no shame. You'd have been lost without me. I don't know where you came from, but I keep getting you out of trouble."

"You're the one without shame! Because I keep saving you!"

"Stop lying! It happened once! And I... Who else would have told you which team to bet on in the tomorrow's game? I'll tell you: on the Black team. They'll definitely win. The best fortuneteller in town told me that, he never lies."

"The Blacks? What about your eternal love for Prince Ho-gae? He'll be playing for the Yellow team."

"Right, and everyone is betting on the Yellow team. Just think about it: if the Blacks win we'll get all that money."

"You love gambling too much to waste such a chance."

 

* * *

 

One year later

 

"Why do you keep following me? Have you got no honour?" she fumes, then falters because in a previous life these words were addressed to her.

A man sitting across from her doesn't answer. He talks very little.

They're sitting in a tent of some army general. No one knows if its previous owner is alive or where he might be. The commander of this army was called the incarnation of the Heaven King and a great hero several months ago, but now he's a rebel against the King and a butcher. Prince Ho-gae doesn't care about it, he's too busy crushing a rebellion in his own army before said army crushes him. A Mongol camp or a market was a picture of order and discipline compared to what this army camp has turned into. Half of the soldiers wanted to run away, the other half tried to catch them, it inevitably led to bloodshed.

Any other people would have been scared if they ended up in such a place, but these two have seen worse. They had more important things to do.

Cho-ro was sent here to find Sujini who ran away and return her to the King. When she refused he followed her.

She couldn't return even if it was her greatest wish. She couldn't just be at the King's side as before, not demanding anything in return. Now she knows that she's the Black Phoenix, a power that can destroy the world. And this power wakes near the King. That's why she had to stay away. Her companion, though, has to be with him, that's what she's trying to explain.

"He doesn't need me," she says. "He doesn't love me and never will."

Cho-ro knows she's wrong. He's seen how desperate the King was when Sujini disappeared. He doesn't say anything, though.

He's the Blue Dragon, he was born to serve the true king, that's his destiny. Only the true king could lift the spell. The king came, the spell was broken.

Everything was decided during the battle at Kwanmi when Cho-ro saw a girl from his dreams among the warriors of the attacking army.

Was he a dragon in a previous life, was she a warrior then? Or was it just his dream? He doesn't know. He knows that she was the first one who didn't cry out in fear when she saw his demonic face, the King was only the second. She couldn't lift the spell. She only said, "Poor thing, you must be in terrible pain..."

_It would have been so simple_ , Sujini thinks, _if I could live with this man_. He's brave, noble, handsome, and he loves her. Nothing about them is simple, though. It was easier to die and stop being a threat to everyone. She tried to do it, but the other side didn't accept her. It means that the Black Phoenix has a destiny too. What is it? The gods are silent. The Black Phoenix is the power of destruction and wraith, but who must she destroy? Ho-gae, the pretender? It looks like he's doing that on his own. The Red Phoenix, the renegade Guardian? Apparently so. But Sujini can do it only when she'll be alone.

"Listen," she says, "I promise..."

 

* * *

 

Eight years later

 

She doesn't have a chance to say anything this time — about honour or about who is following whom. She could have. She only managed to mumble, "Let me go" when she realized that he was watching her.

"You're not going anywhere. And if you try I'll follow you."

A man and a woman are standing on a riverbank. He talks quietly, but kingdoms used to fall and rise at his command.

A long time ago, when he was still a boy, he rushed to look for her, but his counselors and companions clang to him almost literally: the army was on the march, the war was coming, he couldn't just leave it because of one woman.

Nothing changed since then: the army is still on the march, the war didn't end. He's never stopped looking for her, though. And now no one dared to stop him.

He's changed a great deal after all these years. The adolescent ease and agility disappeared, he became heavier and grew a beard. It pained her to see silver in his hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He was only twenty six. It was painful and scary: they were the same age, is she an old woman now too?

She stopped cutting her hair short, learned to wear a dress and behave as everyone did. She didn't stand out in a crowd anymore. Her name meant 'a hawk'. She's no hawk, she's just a chicken... It's better to part now, before he realizes that she's not the reckless tomboy he remembers.

"You're the king. Your place is in the palace."

"My palace is where you are."

"Let me go..."

He turns around and kicks away the wheel of her cart. It falls into the dust. He takes another step and hugs her, no, clings to her like a man drowning.

"I'll never let you go. Never."

"You know that we can't be together, we can't..." she repeats helplessly, then her voice catches. She can't even hear what he says, if she does she doesn't understand it. As soon as the spasm passes, she hears his words.

"We've done this play before: the Heaven King, the Guardians, the Black Phoenix. I'm not going to repeat the play written by the Heaven. I want to live my own life. And you don't have to destroy the world no matter who says so."

She steps away wiping the tears.

"I'll try... Why not... I love gambling too much, after all."


	6. Warrior Baek Dong-soo - Ji, Chun, Kim Kwang-daek: Out of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ji always runs to Kwang-Taek, but returns to Chun.

_Now I know how you’ve lived these twenty years._

_Warrior Baek Dong-soo, ep.12_

 

Ji always runs to Kwang-taek, but returns to Chun.

She tells Chun that Jin-joo is his daughter to save the girl’s life. Ji doesn’t look away even when she lies, and Chun believes her straight away.

Ji doesn’t have a chance to tell Kwang-taek that Jin-joo is his, but she believes he knows that.

The first option is more probable, the second option is what her heart believes in. Ultimately children are born out of love, right?

Ji, the right hand of Hoksachoron leader and the daughter of the previous one, killed too often to hope for Heaven’s mercy. Kwang-taek, the Joseon’s saint swordman, is loved by the Heavens, Chun, the best killer in the country, doesn’t care about it. Ji is their only weakness.

These men are each other’s strength. They are different like day and night. They are in love with one woman, they should have become enemies. They did.

Kwang-daek is the only man who knows where the Hoksachoron hideaway is and the only man who goes there to get drunk with the leader.

Chun winces, drinking another cup, but lets Kwang-daek's student, who got in his way, walk away unharmed.

Masters of martial arts say that if Chun's right hand is made of silver then Kwang-daek's left one is made of gold. And both of men are worth their weight in gold and silver accordingly. Especially for experts.

During the last twenty years Ji shared a bed with Kwang-daek three times, and each morning Chun met her at the gates of the hideaway, staring at her indifferently and clutching a bottle in his hand.

When Kwang-daek returns to Joseon Chun is the first to know about it.

"He's back. Visit him."

Ji's daughter, a good archer, has a sure eye, a bright smile, a silver right hand and a golden left one.

 

* * *

 

When Ji dies — the first of them — bleeding on a river bank she regrets only one thing: she didn't tell Jin-joo how much she loved her father.


End file.
